Quotes Healthy Food Novels & Stories

Mafia's were the top leading in wealth and everything They were feared by all and peasants never wished to cross their part because they were mean,brutal and influencial Peasant do not have options, they have to serve them so that can have a roof to leave under and food to eat . Meet Rosie A young girl of 20 years.Stubborn, talkative,troublesome ,name it all She was known for her beauty she is unique and endowed in the right places ,,she was more like a goddess Rosie is an orphan,her mother served as a maid to a mafia till she died ,that was the kind of life Rosie was brought into ,,she continued from where her mother stopped until one faithful day the family had to move and couldnt take rosie with them so they had to sell her . But the question is to who Meet Edwardo cheng A young man of 26,a very handsome young man ,,His has all that a lady desires but his evil,heartless ,self centered name them all ,he took over from his father and became the head of mafia's ,no one dared him,no one looks at him,no one speaks while he speaks ,his name alone make people flinch,he cares about no one but himself . Nobody severs him and come back alive ,most news been heard was that they commited suicide or wanted to run away and died in the process And now he needed a new servant who will be the unlucky fellow Grab your popcorn and get ready . All right reserved ️

On my way home from the night shift, a patient who held a grudge against my husband, the hospital director, forced half a bottle of pesticide down my throat. Terrified, I called my husband, Jasper Flint, for help. He rushed over and saved me. I survived by sheer luck. But tragically, his first love, Ruby Gray, died in a car accident on her way home that same night. After Ruby's funeral, Jasper carried on as if nothing had happened. I thought he had finally let her go. But on New Year's Eve, he poisoned our food, tied up my parents and me, and took us hostage. Through tears, I begged him to spare my parents. He killed them right in front of me. Their blood splashed across my face. "If you hadn't been so jealous of Ruby, if you hadn't pretended to drink pesticide just to lure me away, she never would've driven off like that. She'd still be alive!" he snarled. "How does it feel to watch your parents die? When Ruby died, what I felt was a thousand times worse than this! Since you like drinking pesticides so much, go ahead. Drink up!" Jasper forced my mouth open and poured the poison down my throat. I died in agony beside my parents' bodies. And then I opened my eyes—only to find myself reborn alongside Jasper. This time, Jasper chose to save his first love.

After the Ferguson family went bankrupt, I gave up everything I had and followed Ethan Ferguson to Stormbay. Five years later, he had fought his way back into the top three on the Forbes rich list. He rebuilt the empire everyone believed he had lost for good. He never mentioned marriage, no matter how much we had been through together. I did not understand the reason until the night before Memorial Day. I woke after midnight and saw Ethan standing alone on the terrace of our beachfront house. The cold ocean wind swept through the darkness while he lit three white candles one by one. Their flames flickered softly against the night. He faced the distant horizon across the sea and lowered his voice. “Mom, Dad… I’m sorry I couldn’t come see you again this year.” He paused, and his expression softened. “However, please keep watching over Vivi. Keep her healthy… and bless the two of us with a long, happy life together.” Warmth spread through my chest as I listened. My health had never been good, and every year near Memorial Day, Ethan refused to let me exhaust myself with the long trip home. He always went alone to visit his parents’ graves while I stayed behind in Stormbay. This year, when I saw the homesickness in his eyes, I decided to surprise him. I wanted to make the trip in his place. I never expected my entire world to collapse the moment I arrived at the cemetery. Ethan’s name was carved into the headstone. Beside it was the name of another woman. Olivia Ferguson. My gaze drifted lower. A framed family photograph sat at the foot of the headstone. Its edges had curled from the ocean wind. In the picture, Ethan held a little blond-haired boy in his arms. The child looked no older than three. Olivia stood beside him, smiling softly at the camera. A sharp pain cut through my chest. Only then did I understand the truth. The “Vivi” Ethan prayed for was never Vivian. It had been Olivia all along.

Michael Flynn; He was my first in everything, my very first friend, the first person to ever believe in me, down to my very best person. He was the first person I ever kissed, he was the first to ever touch me on… oh scratch that, he wasn’t. Every second and minute we spent together was special, life was only better when I was with him until the night he found his wolf, the night he found out that I was his mate. I, his mate, the one girl who was considered an omega, while he, the Alpha’s son. We were on the polar sides of the food chain. His love for me went sour, even his memories became nothing but a nightmare. He still looked at me the same way, I could see the hope in his eyes but now it was different, I was different, and to worsen matters, I had already had a one-night stand with a beautiful stranger, Klaus. Unintentionally, I got caught up in a tight web, one I never envisioned getting into. What am I to do now that Michael, my mate, is back asking for a second chance? Should I get back with him and let go of his misdeeds or should I toss him to the curb… the exact same way he had done to me, most especially now that someone else had come knocking on my door, someone a lot more sinister… someone that even my father dreaded; he was none other but Klaus Knight II Read to find out!

When I became the blood bank for my mate Alpha Kane’s sweetheart, my wolf died from the endless loss of blood—and so did I, alone, in the cold den he rented to keep me out of sight. Today marks the third day since my death, and finally, my six-year-old pup noticed something was wrong. His finger bled when a toy hurt him, but I didn’t come to comfort him. When he tried to feed me his favorite food, I didn’t stop him either. He lay on my chest, gripping my clothes and whispering my name—but I didn’t respond. Desperate and helpless, my pup picked up my cellphone and called his alpha dad. “Dad, why is Mom still sleeping?” Kane didn’t answer. Instead, he sent him a photo of himself and Serena—his sweetheart—celebrating Full Moon Day, smirking. “Don’t worry. Your mom is just sleeping, not dead. You know I’m quite busy on Full Moon Day. Tell your arrogant and stubborn mom not to come find me until she admits her fault.” The call ended, leaving my pup frozen in silence. However, three days later, Kane received news of my death. He let out a gut-wrenching growl, refusing to believe it was true. Clutching my cold, lifeless body in his arms, he wept bitterly. “Kate… you are my only Luna,” he cried. “Come back. Stay with me… please.”

After my husband, Trevor Penn, abuses me for the 98th time just to stand up for Callista Whitcombe, I've completely given up on him. That's when I accept his best friend, Maddox Harlow's confession. After spending the night with Maddox, he agrees to help me fake my death. That way, I'll be able to use a brand new identity to marry him overseas. I've taken the fake-death drug Maddox has given to me, only to wake up in a coffin earlier than expected. I can't move a single muscle in my body. But that's when I overhear Maddox's conversation with another person outside the coffin. "Mr. Harlow, you convinced Trevor to abuse Judith before pretending to save her from her abusive life. Now that you've obtained her full-fledged trust, why did you still arrange for her to be buried after faking her death?" "Only by doing this will the Whitcombes trust that Judith is truly dead. That way, Callie's position as the heiress will be unshakable. No one will ever bring up the fact that she's an illegitimate child ever again." The other person sounds hesitant. "Won't it be too long if we only dig the coffin out one week from now, after you've held the wedding with Callista?" "The fake-death drug's effects can last for five days. I've already had someone put enough water, food, and oxygen tanks in the coffin. There's no way Judith will die."

He's sugar. She's spice. Together, they will never work. She has done the impossible. Working for the country's most difficult boss for seven years. Rosaline Carter's work life is fueled by her love for spicy food, a fat paycheck, and dreams of sending her brother to Harvard. She's sworn off love completely. Until that fateful monday morning. "I need a fiancée, Miss Carter. And I need one who at least knows my favourite brand of coffee." A contract marriage to her boss, the impossible and difficult Alaric Sylvester? Rosaline never even saw him as a man to begin with. But for five billion dollars? She would propose to Mr Ice king and plan the wedding alone. Alaric Sylvester hates his assistant. With her sensible shoes, horn rimmed glasses, and perfectly polite way of speaking, she never fails to get on his nerves. She's the last person he wants for a wife, or even a romantic figure. Yet she's the best option. No one knows his schedule by heart, or his love for sweets. It's just three years. And he'll never see her again. With his inheritance on the line, the board of directors hounding him for being too antisocial, and rumours starting to stir...he will do anything to save his reputation. Including marrying his cold hearted assistant. And with her hatred for sweets, he's sure he'll never like her. It's only a marriage agreement. The terms were simple. But simple doesn't always equal easy. And the human heart is a traitorous beast.

Addy Walker once believed love was supposed to be loud—felt in bedtime stories, laughter in the kitchen, and the warmth of arms that made the world feel safe. That’s how it was before her mother died. Before her father changed. Grief hollowed him out. The man who once teased and protected became a shell—quiet, cold, unreachable. Then came the bottles. The slammed doors. The bruises. Addy, now eighteen, has learned to survive in silence—walking lightly, speaking carefully, hiding her pain beneath long sleeves and polite smiles. She works long hours to keep food on the table while her father sinks deeper into debt and addiction. One night, she comes home to a dark, freezing house—again. The electricity is off. Again. And she knows why. She confronts him, her voice sharper than it’s ever been. He denies it at first, but the truth is already spread across the kitchen counter in final notice bills and losing betting slips. He’d gambled away the electric bill money on a horse. The argument erupts. He screams, she stands her ground. When he slaps her, she doesn’t flinch. Something inside her shifts. She’s done waiting for the man he used to be. Addy packs a bag. She’s leaving—for real this time. No plan. No destination. Just freedom. But as she storms out into the rain, a long, black car pulls up to the curb. A man steps out—tall, broad-shouldered, older. His face is hard, almost frightening in the shadows, but he’s striking. Dangerous. And calm.

It was our wedding anniversary when my husband's high school sweetheart posted a sonogram picture on her social media, with her captioning a public thank-you to my husband: [Thank you to the man who's been there for me for ten years, and for giving me a son.] The room spun, and anger surged through me as I quickly commented: [So, you're proud of being a homewrecker?] Almost immediately, my husband called, his voice full of rage. "How can you think such disgusting things? All I did was help her with IVF, fulfilling her dream of becoming a single mom. "And by the way, Ruby only needed one try to get pregnant, while you’ve been through three rounds with nothing. Your body is useless!" Just three days ago, he told me he was going abroad for business—ignoring my calls and messages the entire time. I thought he was just busy. However, it turned out he was with her, attending her prenatal checkup. Half an hour later, Ruby posted again, showing off a table full of delicious food. [I got tired of French food, so Ash made me all my favorite dishes. He’s the best!] I stared at the pregnancy test in my hand, the joy I had felt earlier now completely gone. After eight years of love and six years of swallowing my pride just to keep the marriage alive, I’m finally ready to let go.

Every time the housekeeper came to cook, she brought her daughter along. I felt sorry for them — single mother, no support — so I never said a word. Until one afternoon, I pulled out the chair at the head of the table and found a note taped to the back. It read: "Freeloaders aren't allowed to eat here." I tore the note off and turned to the housekeeper. "What is this supposed to mean?" The girl shot me a look of pure contempt and let out a cold laugh. "You're just a maid. You sponge off other people's homes day after day — how are you not ashamed? If you can't afford food, go beg on the street. People like you, mooching off everyone, make me sick." I stared at her, completely thrown. The housekeeper rushed over and lowered her voice. "Ms. Wolfe, my daughter doesn't know I'm the maid here. She saw how hard I work and felt sorry for me — that's why she put up the note." "And she has serious germophobia. She can't stand eating with strangers. Wait outside until she's done eating. Don't come back in." Before I could answer, she shoved me out the front door. The door slammed shut behind me with a final bang. I stood there on the steps and calmly dialed the police. "Hello. There's been a break-in at my home. Someone's locked me out. I need an officer here now."